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      Miranda Jarrett considers herself sublimely fortunate to have a career that combines history and happy endings—even if it’s one that’s also made her family far-too-regular patrons of the local pizzeria. Miranda is the author of over thirty historical romances, and her books are enjoyed by readers the world over. She has won numerous awards for her writing, including two Golden Leaf Awards and two RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Awards, and has three times been a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist for best short historical romance.

      Miranda is a graduate of Brown University, with a degree in art history. She loves to hear from readers at PO Box 1102, Paoli, PA 19301-0792, USA, or at [email protected]

       Novels by Miranda Jarrett:

      RAKE’S WAGER

      THE LADY’S

      HAZARD THE DUKE’S GAMBLE

      THE ADVENTUROUS BRIDE*

      SEDUCTION OF AN ENGLISH BEAUTY*

      THE SAILOR’S BRIDE (in Regency Christmas Weddings)

      *linked by character to The Duke’s Governess Bride

      MILLS & BOON

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      Chapter One

       If a Woman has any Mind to be wicked, Venice seems to be the last Place in the World to give her better Sentiments.

      —‘Miss N’, to the actor Thomas Hull, 1756

      Venice—January 1785

      Most English gentlemen came to Venice to be amused, whether to view the antique paintings, or to wear a long-nosed mask and dance at the carnival, or to dally with a courtesan in a closed gondola. But Richard Farren, the fifth Duke of Aston, wasn’t here for idle amusement. He had come to Venice for one reason, and one reason only. He’d come for the sake of love.

      Turning the collar of his heavy Melton travelling cloak higher against the wind, Richard smiled as he imagined again what his friends in London must be saying of him now. That he was a sentimental fool, surely. That he’d lost his wits, most likely. That the love he was travelling so far to offer would never be returned in equal measure—ah, there were doubtless a good many wagers being made about that, too. So be it. He’d only been able to tolerate a couple of months of loneliness at Aston Hall before he’d given in, and taken off on this journey. But then, caution and care had never been his style, and he wasn’t about to change now. Nothing ventured, nothing gained—that seemed to him not so much a time-worn adage as a good, sound philosophy.

      He leaned his arms on the rail of the little sloop, staring out at the wavering dark outline of the shore. This passage from Trieste to Venice was the last step of his long journey, and he’d stood there much of the day, preferring the damp and chill on the deck to the close, fishy stench of the cabin below. Besides, he’d doubted he’d have been able to sleep even if he’d tried. After so many weeks travelling by land and sea, and hard travelling at that, his destination was now only hours away. By nightfall, all his doubts, all his worries, would at last be put to rest—or, if Fate went against him, they’d only have begun.

      ‘His Grace is eager to reach Venice.’ The sloop’s captain joined him unbidden at the rail. ‘His Grace is happy we make such good speed, yes?’

      ‘Yes,’ Richard said, hoping that brevity would make the man leave him in peace.

      But the captain only squinted up at Richard, pushing his greasy cocked hat more firmly on his head against the wind. ‘His Grace is brave to sail in winter, yes? Ice, snow, wind, brr.’

      The captain hugged his arms over his chest to mimic a man warming himself. In return Richard only nodded. He knew perfectly well the perils of travelling at this time of year. He had embarked from England so late in the season, almost in winter itself, that crossing the Continent to Italy through France and the Alps was out of the question. He’d had no choice but to travel by sea, around Spain and Portugal and into the Mediterranean, until he’d become heartily sick of the company of sailing men like this one.

      ‘Once you’re at Venice, your Grace, you stay,’ the captain continued. ‘No more journey until spring. No Roma, no Napoli, no Firenze, no—’

      ‘Quite,’ Richard said, his impatience with the man’s company growing by the second. He didn’t need a list of every landmark city in Italy to know that he’d be winterbound in Venice. He was rather counting on it, in fact, given the pleasing female company that was waiting for him there.

      ‘But his Grace will find willing friends in Venice to warm him, eh?’ The captain winked slyly, studying Richard

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